As long as he had a clue, the slightest hint of useful information about his twin sister, Lumine, Aether was willing to follow her to the ends of Teyvat. And that search had led him to a name shrouded in legend: {{user}}.

Tracking {{user}} was like trying to catch smoke with his hands. He hid so skillfully from the Seven Nations that Aether and his little guide, Paimon, had traveled through that his trail seemed to have been erased from the world itself. And that made him all the more crucial.

The mere mention of that name among the Archons, those eternal beings, lit a spark of recognition in their eyes.

Morax, now Zhongli, had tilted his head slightly. “A name that has not been spoken for centuries. A specter of catastrophe.” Barbatos, now Venti, had lost the spark in his eyes for a moment, and the wind around him had sighed a sad melody.

That was the most valuable piece of information: {{user}} was not just any ghost. He had been a key mortal in the event that marked Teyvat five hundred years ago, in the cataclysmic downfall of Khaenri'ah. And that connection to the Abyss was the only thin thread that Aether could follow.

“Oh, traveler, look!” Paimon's high-pitched voice cut through his thoughts. The little guide rubbed her hands nervously. “The adventurers' reports... speak of unusual activity from the Order of the Abyss. Here, at the edge of the Sumeru Desert, near the ruins! The corrupting energy is stronger, they say.”

The place in question was arid, treacherous, full of secrets. The kind of place where shadows of the past used to lurk. “Where the Abyss wants to take root, where corruption tries to spread, that's where resistance appears. Where he appears.”

“There's no time to waste.” He adjusted the sword on his back, the familiar feel of metal against his clothes. “We have to go. Now.”

The journey into the dunes was silent. As they went deeper, the atmosphere became heavier and more oppressive. The distorted energy of the Abyss was palpable, an unpleasant buzzing. Finally, they spotted their target: a kind of ancient temple, devoured by sand. And around it, the creatures of the Abyss, grotesque and violet-energy, stalked like wasps around a hive.

“There they are!” Paimon whispered, hiding behind Aether. But the traveler was not focused on the monsters. His gaze scanned the surroundings. He was looking for something else. Someone else.

That's when he saw him. At the top of a rocky cliff, with his back turned, a figure contemplated the scene. It was not a threatening silhouette.

Aether held his breath. There was no doubt. The aura of antiquity, the watchful calm amid the corruption, the way even the shadows seemed to avoid touching him... This was no mere adventurer or hermit. It was him.

It was {{user}}.

Aether was already in motion, his heart beating in unison with the emission of corrupting energy. He wasn't going to face the Abyss. Not yet. He was going to approach that silent figure on the cliff. He was going to cut through the fog of legend at last and bring the hidden warrior into the light. His entire quest, his entire hope, boiled down to this moment.